


Red

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Fuck Or Die, M/M, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Rimming, Season/Series 07, Sex Pollen, Top Keith (Voltron), Touch-Starved Shiro (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 15:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16835005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: During their travels back to Earth, the Paladins set down on a little green moon to look for food. Shiro, still recovering from returning to his body, finds a creature that latches onto him and starts affecting him physically-- with risk of death. And the only cure to keep it from depleting Shiro completely? To satisfy its hunger.





	Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kika988](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988/gifts).



> Fic request from [Kika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kika988/pseuds/Kika988) who asked for sheith + sex pollen. AND I WAS SO HAPPY TO DELIVER BECAUSE I LOVE SEX POLLEN. Thank you so, so much for prompting me! 
> 
> A brief note on the trope of sex pollen: there's an inherent dub-con element that I haven't added to the tags here, as despite the trope's premise, both boys want to be together. If you're sensitive to dub-con elements, however, you might want to consider skipping this fic.

Shiro’s near a little stream that’s curling through red rocks when it happens. The water itself looks almost red, too. It’s striking on the moon they parked on to find food, all this red in what’s otherwise only shades of green. There are little red plants tucked between the stones, growing up towards the light. ( _Look for the non-green plants,_ Pidge instructed before they all disembarked their Lions. _We won’t be able to digest anything else._ )

“I think I’ve found something,” Shiro calls out. 

Even to himself, his voice sounds too soft and sleepy, and it takes far more out of him to raise his voice than he thinks it should. He feels winded. It’s not the first time Shiro’s been made to face his shortcomings since coming back into his— this— body. He wonders (usually at night when he should be sleeping, usually when he can’t outrun his thoughts) if he’s ever actually going to be normal again. 

Better to focus on being useful. That at least he can do, even with his aching body, his lack of arm, his jumbled up memories. He might be many things, Shiro thinks darkly, but he doesn’t want to be a burden. 

He feels Keith approach before he sees him. Keith is quiet, moves like water, but Shiro’s spent so much time within the Black Lion’s consciousness, having nothing but _sense_ , that he’d know Keith’s presence anywhere. Keith’s hand touches his shoulder, and it’s simple, something they’ve done so many times, and all it does is set Shiro afire. 

That’s the part he hasn’t told anyone yet— the way any touch leaves him breathless. He’s spent so long incorporeal. Even through Keith’s glove and Shiro’s armor, the weight of Keith’s hand pressing to his shoulder, the squeeze of his palm, the splay of his fingertips— touch is intoxicating. 

“What’d you find?” Keith asks, peering down into the water. His hand stays anchored on Shiro’s shoulder. 

Shiro closes his eyes. It’s only a hand on his shoulder. He’s felt this before. 

But that’s just how it is for Shiro now. Him, shaking apart because of the simplest touch from his best friend. That friend who’s done so much to keep him safe. 

That friend he’s so desperately in love with sometimes it’s physically painful. 

Shiro lifts his hand and bites off the tip of his glove, peeling it off and says, “This, here.” 

He reaches out towards the red plant between the red stones. It’s only as his fingertips touch it that he realizes it isn’t a plant at all, but a little creature. It springs up at the contact. It’s something like a newt, beady red eyes blinking at him before it coils, springing at Shiro. 

“Shiro!” Keith yells, already reaching for him.

The creature moves lightning-quick, curling around Shiro’s hand and squirming up beneath his armor, twisting around his forearm. Shiro feels a pinch, a cluster of little needles piercing his skin, and that sends a shudder through him. A moment later, everything feels too bright, too loud. 

Keith’s hand is on his back, supporting him. His other’s trying to yank the creature off. Shiro closes his eyes against the burning feeling that lances through him, threatening to immolate him. His body smolders where Keith touches him. 

Even Keith’s quick touches leave him trembling. Keith rips through his gauntlet, yanking off the protective plates and shoving up the underarmor to get at Shiro’s skin. Shiro’s skin prickles in the wake of his touch. Shiro bites back a whimper. 

“Shiro, Shiro! Can you hear me?” Keith’s voice is desperate and Shiro realizes that he’s drowning himself in the sensation of Keith’s hands on him, that he’s somehow missed Keith speaking. 

He blinks his eyes open and his vision is swimming. He feels feverish and marvels that something as mundane as fingers at his wrist can manage to get such a reaction out of him. It shouldn’t affect him this much. He should be stronger. 

“I’m okay,” Shiro whispers, can’t raise his voice any higher, and watches Keith’s eyes darken in concern, his face pinching with fear. 

The others arrive around this time, called by Keith’s shouting. Keith’s still trying to pry the creature off Shiro, but it’s latched on tight, its little needle-teeth buried into Shiro’s skin, sipping on the blood that beads up to the surface. 

“Oh,” Coran, Romelle, and Allura all say at the exact same time, a chorus of understanding. 

Keith whips around towards them. “What’s happening? _How do I get it off?_ ” 

His voice is desperate, nearly as desperate as the way Keith’s hand flexes at his back, holding Shiro protectively to him, not letting him get away. Shiro’s trembling all over, shaking apart. He feels himself flush and buries himself towards Keith, seeking that steady presence (Keith’s strong, always been so strong). 

The creature lets out a pleased little peep, tightening around Shiro’s forearm. 

“Well,” Coran says. “It appears Shiro’s found the elusive Antanvian Bloodsucking Heartworm!” 

“ _Bloodsucking?_ ” Keith barks, glaring at the little red lizard then staring back up at Coran. “How do I remove it?” 

The Alteans all look profoundly uncomfortable. Instead of answering right away, Coran plows forward, “Very interesting creatures, the Heartworms! Many cultures use them for— ahem— particular rites of passage.”

“ _Coran_ ,” Keith interrupts, eyes as bright as the fire burning through Shiro’s veins. His grip is tight around Shiro. 

“It can only be removed by…” Allura begins and then begins to blush. 

“Fluids,” Romelle supplies helpfully. 

Keith’s face twists up in confusion but Shiro’s heart begins to thunder, listening to all this as if through water, his ears fuzzed out. He swallows, shaking in Keith’s arms, his body on fire. 

“The heartworm invites— certain reactions,” Coran says, ever the diplomat. “Of the heart. The only way to get it to release its host is to— satisfy its hunger. You do that by giving it…” 

“Spit it out!” Keith demands, voice cracking. 

“Evidence of a coupling,” Coran finally says. “It’ll drain the host of blood if it doesn’t get it.” 

There’s quiet for a long moment. The heartworm peeps again, swallowing Shiro’s blood. Shiro’s starting to feel a little dazed from the exchange of blood for— whatever the heartworm is pumping into his system. Keith is very still and very rigid against him, his shoulders rising, his eyes wide. Alarm. Disgust, possibly. 

_You’re my brother._ He’d said that in the facility. If Keith feels that way, it’s wrong for Shiro to feel this while in his arms. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers. 

Keith recovers from his initial shock and immediately turns towards Shiro, his expression softening instantly. He holds him, too gently, hand at his back, the other at his hip. 

“It’s going to be okay, Shiro,” Keith tells him, quietly, as if the others are not standing right there, as if Shiro is the only person in the universe. 

He lingers there, just looking at Shiro, waiting for Shiro’s little nod before he looks back up at the rest of them.

“We’re going back to the Black Lion. All of you, keep searching for food but don’t touch anything until you can verify that it’s safe. Be careful. Understand?” 

And then he takes Shiro’s arm, gently, reverently, and slings it over his shoulder, helping Shiro to his feet. Shiro’s face burns with humiliation— he can’t look at any of the others, knowing that they’re leaving and _it’s obviously what’s happening_. That, and Keith’s curled his arm around Shiro’s waist and— he gasps aloud. He keeps his head bowed and lets Keith lead back towards the lion. 

The Black Lion looms before them. Shiro hasn’t told Keith yet, how oppressive it feels inside the Black Lion now, how painful that admission would be. He was in her consciousness for so long, was almost part of her. And now he’s completely disconnected from her— never hears her thoughts, her moods, her responses to his own thoughts. It’s profoundly empty. 

He must make a sound, something like a whimper, because Keith pauses before climbing in and turns towards him, his nose so close to brushing his cheek. 

“Shiro?” he asks. 

Shiro can only shake his head. “Not there.” 

Keith’s mouth thins and he glances over his shoulder, back towards the others. Then he changes course and walks beyond where the Lions are, deep into a glen of wide alien trees and the soft, velvet green grass. He sets them both down there, helping Shiro to kneel. 

They stare at the little red lizard silently, then look at one another. 

“Is this okay?” Keith asks. “I just kind of assumed. If you’d rather it was someone else—”

“Who else is there but you?” Shiro answers, overly honest and vulnerable. He nearly flinches. 

Keith flushes and then frowns, staring at the heartworm. He reaches out his hand and touches the spot on Shiro’s arm just in front of the creature’s head, his fingers touching his skin. Shiro sucks in a sharp breath. 

Hearing that, Keith looks up at Shiro in alarm. Shiro ducks his head and murmurs an apology. 

“No,” Keith whispers back, his other hand lifting to touch Shiro’s cheek, tipping his head up so their eyes meet again. “I’m going to protect you. No matter what.” 

And that’s always been the thing with Keith, that unyielding loyalty. Shiro closes his eyes against the force of Keith’s words, trembling. He fears, always, that he’ll never deserve it. That this, too, will be another thing in the long list of actions and sacrifices Keith has made for Shiro.

“So,” Keith coughs, quietly. “I guess I’ll, uh… I mean. I can take care of myself somewhere else and come back and we can… uh. Mix it together. That should work, right?”

The creature, as if listening, lets out a disgruntled little growl and tightens its grip on Shiro’s arm. Shiro flinches and says, “I don’t think that’s going to be enough, Keith.” 

They look at each other again. Shiro looks away first, his face red. He can feel the effects the heartworm’s having on him, the way everything feels heightened. Coran didn’t give the full explanation, but Shiro can imagine what sorts of rites of passages would ask for such a thing. Evidence of a coupling, indeed.

He stares miserably down at his lap, where he’s already half-hard just from whatever the creature exchanges his blood for. He feels lightheaded. He feels mortified, to force Keith into doing this. 

_You’re my brother._

“Shiro,” Keith says, quietly. He waits until Shiro looks at him again before continuing, “Let me help you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says, forces himself to look at Keith as he says it. “You shouldn’t have to do this.” 

Keith cups his face and says nothing. Shiro can feel the point of contact of each of Keith’s fingertips, callused and work-rough, the softness of his palm against his cheek. Shiro gulps down a startled breath. 

“Let me help,” Keith says, quieter this time. Shiro closes his eyes and nods. He feels every spot where Keith touches him, tugging off the rest of his armor, tugging down his underarmor. The grass beneath him, when he lies down, is soft. He can feel each blade against his back, soothing, electrifying. 

Keith is methodic in undressing Shiro. It’s efficient and precise, but each touch of Keith’s hands to Shiro leaves him shuddering, biting his lip. 

Frowning above him, Keith says, “This thing’s really affecting you.” 

Shiro doesn’t have the words to say that it isn’t the creature that leaves him so desperate for Keith’s hands on him. He watches as Keith looks away with a blush and works at his own armor. Shiro wants to reach out to touch him himself, to help him, but he can’t manage it, gulping down air, feeling dizzy. The creature tightens around his arm. Shiro yearns—

Pathetic, to be in this situation. Desperately, pathetically in love with his best friend and unable to say it, shaking apart just because of nothing-touches. Shiro’s naked in the grass and hard just from that, just from the ghost of touch, just from the quiet longing to pretend this can mean something more for Keith. 

He watches Keith undress, watches the smooth expanse of Keith’s exposed back, the bow of his spine, the flush to his skin. He’s beautiful. Shiro’s always thought that, but it feels almost impossible when he’s like this, buzzing with whatever the creature’s doing to him. 

When Keith’s naked, he turns back towards him, scooting a little closer but still too far away. He looks embarrassed, hair in his eyes, his cheeks pink, and embarrassment and longing spikes through Shiro as he lets his eyes drag over him. Keith isn’t hard yet, but his body is lean and strong. Slinging Shiro’s arm over his shoulder was a formality. He could have carried Shiro here. Shiro almost wishes he had. 

Shiro, before he can stop himself, reaches out to Keith— he’s too far away, though, and it leaves his hand grasping nothing but air. He holds it there for a moment, hovering uselessly. It feels so heavy. Everything feels too suffocating. 

“Keith,” he whispers, hinging around desperation, soft and husked out. 

Keith’s expression splinters and he reaches out to touch Shiro. He’s just about to connect, his fingertips just a breath away from touching Shiro’s skin, when Shiro yanks his hand back with a gasping, shuddering breath. 

“I can’t,” he whispers, his voice breaking. 

“Shiro,” Keith says. He moves closer again, not quite touching Shiro. He can feel the air buzzing with Keith’s presence, can feel the sensation, the promise, of Keith’s skin on his. Keith’s expression turns downright murderous as he looks at the creature. “Maybe I can crush it,” Keith says. “Just smash its head and it’ll let go.” 

“We don’t know what will happen,” Shiro answers. “Besides. It’s so little, Keith. It— it’s only doing what it’s supposed to do. We can’t blame it. I’m the idiot who touched it without thinking.” 

“You’re not an idiot,” Keith replies, instant, his voice gentle. Keith’s expression softens when he looks back at Shiro. He looks mournful. “It’s hurting you.” 

Shiro shakes his head. “It’s not… not really.” 

Keith frowns at that, face still flushed, a beautiful pink in a sea of green. When he moves closer to Shiro, Shiro can see that Keith’s hands and knees are stained green from the velvet grass all around them. 

“Tell me what you need,” Keith says. “Tell me what to do, Shiro. I’ll do anything for you— just tell me.” 

It’s so like Keith to say this, to offer this like it isn’t a gift, like he hasn’t already done more than enough for Shiro. Shiro never thought he’d be in this situation, sprawled naked and hard in the grass, Keith hovering above him equally as naked. 

Shiro thinks of Keith’s hands on him. He closes his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Stop saying that,” Keith is quick to answer, and he sounds closer than before, like he’s hovering just above where Shiro can reach to touch him. “I’m here because I want to help you. I’m here, Shiro.” 

When Shiro opens his eyes again, Keith is peering down at him, eyes bright and intense. Everything about Keith has always been so intense, since the very moment they met. It’s something he’s always admired about Keith— his passion, his ferocity. It figures that such passion would translate even to sex. Shiro shouldn’t be surprised. 

Keith’s expression is unbearably gentle when he says, quietly, “Shiro. Talk to me.” 

“It’s— it’s so much, sometimes. Being here again. I—” Shiro swallows around the words, tries to express them in a way that’ll make sense. He comes up grasping. 

“Your body,” Keith clarifies for him, mercifully. 

Shiro nods. “I never _felt_ anything, Keith. Black was there, but it was different. It… was lonely.” He blinks back the tears that threaten to spring up, that rush of emotions fostered in by the creature on his arm. He ducks his head. “The heartworm’s not helping, but… but I already felt this.” 

He lets those words linger in the air. He knows Keith won’t be cruel. He never is. 

“You haven’t told me any of this. Anything about what happened,” Keith says. He doesn’t sound hurt, although his voice is sympathetic. More observing. He says, “You can tell me anything, Shiro.”

“I know,” Shiro says, and he does know. Knows Keith will always listen. “But what’s the point of talking about what’s already passed?”

He could tell him all of it— how his body feels like at once his own and not his own, that he can remember his memories as something he’s lived while remembering them like an outside observer. That he can remember every horrible thing he did and said that day at the clone facility. That he can remember the crushing, aching loneliness of an afterlife he knew he’d see someday, that realization that he would never touch, hear, see, anything ever again, that he’d never be able to see _Keith_ again, and having to accept that—

Keith’s eyes narrow and he reaches out, plants his hand firm and purposeful against Shiro’s chest. Shiro’s heart leaps and a gasp rattles out of him. His entire body shudders. Keith’s eyes fly wide open. 

He slides his hand down Shiro’s chest and Shiro rises to meet him, his belly swelling with breath as Keith drags his fingertips down the line of his abs, swirls around his belly button, follows the trail of hair down towards where his cock rests, hard and aching. 

Keith’s expression is determined when he looks up at Shiro again, his eyes bright with fire, his cheeks red in the green light of the trees. “Shiro,” he says. “I’ve got you.” 

“Keith,” Shiro gasps, can’t even be embarrassed by how just a hand on his chest, his stomach, can pull such a reaction from him. His voice sounds wrecked to his own ears. 

“I’m here, Shiro. You’ve got me. You can touch me, too.” 

Shiro freezes and then a moment later, his entire body goes slack, trembling. His hand reaches out and splays over Keith’s chest, feels the steady pulse of his heartbeat, the heat of his skin, the firm line of his muscles. Everything. Keith is here. Keith is in front of him. He can touch him. 

Touching Keith is almost worse than being touched, feeling the solid weight of another body hovering above him. Keith leans forward, presses against Shiro’s hand, lets Shiro feel the full weight, powerful and strong and alive above him. 

Shiro pulls back. His breath is raspy and uncertain as he sucks it in. He lifts his arm to press over his eyes. His breath feels wavery, like he’s about to cry. He’s mortified. 

Keith touches his wrist but doesn’t move to pull his arm away from his face. 

“Keith,” he whispers, his voice wavery and watery. 

“Shiro,” Keith answers. “Please. You’ve done so much for me. Let me take care of you this time.”

Shiro almost laughs, shaking his head. “You’re _always_ taking care of me.” 

Another hand touches his thigh and Shiro moans, his entire body bowing. He hears Keith suck in a sharp breath, too, surprised. The hand at his wrist slides, gently, touching at his skin, avoiding the heartworm. Shiro slowly lifts his arm away and finds Keith hovering there, staring down at him. 

“Okay,” Keith whispers, once he’s sure Shiro’s looking at him. His hand rests on Shiro’s thigh, the other resting at his bicep. “Evidence of a coupling, remember?” 

“I know,” Shiro tells him. “How—”

“I’ll show you,” Keith interrupts, gentle but determined. “I’ll show you that you’re here, Shiro. You’re alive. And I’ve got you, okay? No matter what— I’m here. Let me help.” 

Shiro nods, tentative but his body humming with the promise of being touched, of having Keith close. “Okay.” 

He’s trembling when Keith nods, and then leans in. When he kisses him, Shiro’s entire body bursts into flames. He gasps, lips parting, but Keith keeps it gentle, just a slide of his mouth against his, coupled with Keith’s hand dragging up to his shoulder, the other tracing his inner thigh. It’s instinctual when Shiro spreads his legs, when his arm comes up and curls around Keith, tethering to him. He shudders. 

Keith kisses him once, twice— gentle and serene and determined, pulling back quickly enough to look at him, to study his expression. 

“If anything’s too much,” Keith says, “Tell me. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Shiro whispers. 

Satisfied, Keith scoots away from him and settles between Shiro’s spread legs. Both hands touch his hips. He studies Shiro’s cock with a quiet intensity that leaves Shiro shuddering as if he’s already being touched. 

Instead of touching his cock, as Shiro half-expects, Keith slides his hands over Shiro’s thighs, knees, shins, then back up again, hooking beneath his knees and lifting both legs. Shiro lets him, gasping. Keith drapes his legs over his shoulders, hands sliding along the backs of his thighs and up. He cups Shiro’s ass, lifting him gently off the ground.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers in alarm before Keith just squirms in closer and presses a kiss to first his inner thigh, then one cheek, and then parts Shiro open and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to his hole. 

Shiro keens, crying out before he can stop himself, a mangled little shout of surprise. He shudders in Keith’s hands, but Keith is steady, holding him in place even as Shiro’s legs flex. 

Keith pauses, waiting. Waiting for Shiro to tell him it’s too much, he realizes. He’s trembling when he reaches out and touches Keith’s hair, curls his fingers tight and holds. It’s amazing to him that he could have gone his whole life without ever realizing how soft and silky Keith’s hair is. 

Satisfied, Keith bends into him with purpose, licking and sucking at his rim. The feeling of Keith’s hands at his ass is both anchoring and devastating, gripping him tight, holding him in place, holding him open and exposed— Keith’s tongue threatens to undo Shiro. He drags his tongue over him, swirling and pressing, making him soppy and wet. Shiro trembles, unable to do anything but pluck his fingers through Keith’s hair, trying to drag him in closer. 

He nearly tells him to stop, nearly starts sobbing. It’s too much. The feeling of the ground beneath his back, the sky high above him, the feeling of Keith’s tongue pressing to him, licking over him, lips pillowing over his rim, tongue pressing and threatening to breach him. Fingertips digging into the soft flesh of his body. His entire body is humming, singing, _screaming_. 

“ _Keith,_ ” he sobs. He clenches his eyes shut for a moment, feels tears slip out, involuntary. He feels their path over his cheeks. It’s bliss. It’s impossible. He’s trembling, but with expectation, not just that feeling of overwhelming attention. 

It’s his body, alive and reacting. But it’s whatever’s pumping through his blood, whatever the heartworm’s given him— heightened senses, heightened everything. His body trembles with the need for completion, to feel Keith all around him. 

When Keith licks, sloppy and wet, over his hole, presses inside him with a little twist of his tongue, it _is_ too much. Shiro shouts, grips tight at Keith’s hair, and comes. He feels the hot streaks of his come over his stomach, searing hot, making him shudder his way through orgasm. Keith holds still against him, an ever-presence through the blur of Shiro’s vision. He’s left a gasping, keening mess by the end of it, body shaking. 

Keith lifts and rises towards him, studying his face. Shiro lets go of his hair and touches his cheek. His thumb finds the raised flesh of his scar. Presses there. Stays there. He can’t manage the words. Gulps down air as he stares up at Keith, pleading. 

Keith’s expression is gentle, soothing. He strokes his hand over Shiro’s stomach, collecting his come with his fingertips. 

“I love you, too,” Shiro tells him, eyes on Keith’s scar. He swallows around his shuddering breath. “It’s not this thing making me say that. I’ll say it when I’m normal, I promise. Keith… I’ll be better. I—”

“Shh,” Keith soothes, his free hand lifting to touch his forehead and brush away his silver hair. He leans in and presses his lips there, a lingering promise that punches a keen out of Shiro’s throat. “Shiro,” Keith murmurs, tender, “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

Shiro can’t respond and whimpers when Keith pulls away again. Keith settles between his legs, runs a soothing hand over his thigh. His other hand, coated in Shiro’s come, presses to Shiro’s hole. He swirls his fingers around his rim, twists two fingers into Shiro’s body. 

Shiro shudders, body bowing. It’s a different sensation from Keith’s tongue. He clenches his eyes shut and whimpers, letting himself feel it all, letting himself drown in everything that Keith gives him. 

“This is the best way I could think of, uh, evidence,” Keith says, voice calm aside from the slightest shake, his eyes on his fingers disappearing inside Shiro’s body. He bites his lip. “We’ll mix together this way, right?” 

Shiro can’t respond. He touches Keith’s cheek. His hair. His neck. The jagged scar from Keith’s Trial. He slides his hand over his collarbone and down, presses to his chest, over his heart. Keith leans forward, pressing into that touch. Keith’s heart is thundering beneath the calm expression. 

“Take care of me,” Shiro tells him, because he knows it’s what Keith wants to hear, needs to hear.

This time, it’s Keith who lets out a soft keening sound. He’s meticulous with fingering Shiro open. Quick and steady and determined. He pulls each sound from Shiro’s throat until he’s practically sobbing.

Keith strokes himself to full hardness, slicking himself with his precome, and presses inside Shiro, where he’s still sopping. A gasp punches out of Shiro and his body arches. Keith has his legs folded over his arms, holding him up and open. 

The more Keith thrusts into him, the louder he becomes. He’s quiet in comparison to Shiro, just moaning, but Shiro studies Keith’s face, sees the change fall over him as his own pleasure builds. Shiro clenches around him and pulls a gasp from Keith. He feels the stutter of Keith’s heart beneath his hand. He wants to touch Keith everywhere, feel everything, but he’s called, each time, back to the feel of his heartbeat beneath his palm. He can’t move away. 

He watches Keith’s face, sees the moment he’s about to come. He can only gasp as he feels Keith thrusting into him, pressing in deep. He feels Keith’s cock twitch inside him and then the swell of come filling him. He feels it all. His body shudders and accepts Keith into his body, as an extension of himself. 

Keith bows his head, groaning, gasping, and when he looks up at Shiro again, there are tears in his eyes. 

Shiro makes a sound, reaches for him. Keith closes his eyes and can only lean into the touch, lets Shiro’s thumb brush away a tear that escapes. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, desperate.

Keith says nothing once he’s come down from his orgasm, his arms trembling where he holds Shiro. 

Then, slowly, he turns his head and presses his lips against Shiro’s palm. He lingers there, even as Shiro gasps. He feels Keith’s breath ghosting across his heartline, his lifeline. His fingers twitch, touching Keith’s skin. Keith keeps his eyes closed, as if waiting. 

Keith draws out of Shiro. Shiro can’t help cry at the feeling of emptiness that nearly overpowers him. He trembles, feeling empty and cold. Keith’s hand finds his stomach, sliding up, touching his chest, his neck, sliding back down to his hip. He’s essentially petting him but it soothes Shiro. He trembles as Keith fingers him again, briefly. He keens as Keith gets his hand dirty with their come, smearing it together.

When he sits up, Shiro holds out his arm wordlessly, displaying the lizard. They stare at it and then up at each other.

Keith frowns. “Uh, I guess like this?”

He flicks their come at the lizard. It’s a little perfunctory, and looks ridiculous. Their come falls onto the creature’s little red body and it twitches and then, finally, slackens its hold on Shiro’s arm. It twists up and its little fangs finally unlatch from Shiro’s arm. Blood pools there, but the creature slithers down into the grass and away in a flash of red scales. 

Keith’s hand, sticky with come, falls back to his side. He looks frustrated, like part of him still wants to chase the creature down and kill it for hurting Shiro. His mouth is all twisted up. 

The creature’s exit is instantaneous: everything that was heightened dims. The world doesn’t seem quite so green, Keith’s face quite so red. His body, while still sensitive, feels less like he’s about to shake apart. 

“Keith,” Shiro whispers, still watching his face. 

“How are you feeling?” Keith asks, instantly, his clean hand touching Shiro’s chest. His touch is soothing. His eyes are dark, guarded— waiting. 

Shiro looks up at Keith and still thinks he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He thinks of the tears in Keith’s eyes, the tender way he held him. Something settles inside Shiro, the first time he’s felt settled since returning to himself. 

He licks his lips. “I love you.” 

Keith’s shoulders slump. He blinks a few times, his smile wobbly at the edges. He whispers, quiet, “Oh.” 

Shiro’s trembling all over but he still manages to sit up and cup Keith’s cheek. He smiles when Keith leans into that touch, eyes falling shut. His eyelashes splay across his cheeks.

“Thanks for saving me again,” Shiro says.

Keith’s smile doesn’t fade. He cups his hand over Shiro’s, keeping it pressed there.

“Always, Shiro.” His eyes are so intense as he looks at Shiro. “No matter what.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/stardropdream) // [Dreamwidth](https://stardropdream.dreamwidth.org/)


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